Boosh Baby!
by Isobel Morgan
Summary: A mysterious parcel delivered to Nabootique turns everyone's lives upside down and brings out unexpected paternal instincts in our boys. This is unashamedly girly, I know, but I couldn't resist writing Three Men, A Gorilla and A Baby.
1. Chapter 1: An Unexpected Delivery

A mysterious parcel delivered to Nabootique turns everyone's lives upside down and brings out unexpected paternal instincts in our boys.

This is unashamedly girly, I know, but I couldn't resist writing Three Men, A Gorilla and A Baby.

Disclaimer: Do I really need to say I don't own the Boosh? Would be nice if I did, then I could keep it in a cupboard and bring it out whenever I get bored, but I don't.

**Boosh Baby!**

**Chapter 1: An Unexpected Delivery**

It was another quiet day in the Nabootique.

Without any customers to distract him, Howard was rearranging his display of jazz records, putting them into alphabetical order, then in chronological order, then order of preference, rarity, price, and any other category he could think of before putting them all back in alphabetical again. Vince was creating an elaborate cardboard play-town on the counter, including a car park for the toy cars, three nightclubs, eight bars and fifteen hairdressers. With Naboo occupied upstairs, brewing new potions, Bollo was busying himself dusting Gary Numan in the cupboard.

Eventually, the giggling got too much for Howard.

"Do you mind? I'm trying to organise my jazz here!"

"Sorry," Bollo apologised. "Gary say, feathers tickle."

"Well, maybe we should think about letting him out of the cupboard, yeah? Then you wouldn't need to dust him."

"He not want to come out," Bollo told him, closing the door on the laughing electro star.

"It was you who put him in there in the first place," Vince pointed out, glancing up from creating a music venue for Vincetown.

"For you!" Howard replied. "Suppose I should've known better – you know how long it took us to get Toyah Wilcox to leave."

"Yeah," Vince recalled. "She used to take ages in the bathroom, too. And she was always using my straighteners."

"And eating all the toast," Howard agreed. "Maybe we should make a rule; no more 80's pop stars unless absolutely necessary."

Bollo shrugged, taking off his flowery pinny and heading into the kitchen.

The bell above the door jingled, announcing the presence of a motorcycle courier, helmet tucked under her arm, a brown paper package dangling from her other hand.

"Delivery for Nabootique?" she asked the two men, sounding bored.

She dumped the package down onto the counter, ignoring Vince high-pitched shriek as she destroyed his miniature metropolis with the two foot long parcel. The delivery girl then thrust a pad of paper under his nose

"Sign here?"

But Vince didn't register her demand, staring open mouthed in horror at his squashed settlement. Howard leaned over and took the pad, scrawling a hasty "Howard TJ Moon" and shoving it back at the girl so he could lift the package up.

Neither of them noticed the girl leave, too wrapped up in the devastation she had caused to the countertop community.

"Look, it's probably not all that bad…" Howard began awkwardly, but he could see it was useless; Vince's town had been completely flattened.

"She crushed my multiplex!" Vince protested, pointing at the now one-dimension cardboard building.

"Yeah… let's have a look at what's inside this parcel, shall we?" Howard suggested, hoping to distract Vince's butterfly-like mind from the destruction of his creation with something new.

He picked up a pair of scissors from their tree on the green of Stationery Village and sliced through the string, ripping away the thick brown paper.

He lifted the lid of the box, then froze in shock at the sight that greeted him within.

"Eurgh, what's making that smell?" Vince lifted a hand to his nose in disgust as he leaned over Howard's shoulder.

"Um, I think she is," Howard replied, staring at the baby girl lying inside the box.

Sucking her thumb contentedly, she stared back up at the two men with huge blue eyes, kicking tiny pink-booteed feet.

"Why've we been sent a baby in a box?" Vince asked.

"I - don't know."

Gingerly, Howard reached down and picked up the little girl, holding her at arms length as if she might explode.

"Who's the parcel addressed to?"

"No-one," Vince replied, reading the label. "It just says 'Nabootique'. Do you think she's Naboo's?"

"Well she's not gonna be Bollo's, is she? Not nearly hairy enough. Go get Naboo, will you?"

Vince raced away up the stairs as Bollo came back out of the kitchen, carrying a tray of tea mugs. The ape stopped as he caught sight of the infant dangling from Howard's hands.

"Why you holding baby?"

"Came special delivery," Howard replied, wishing he knew what you were supposed to do with babies.

"Look, you don't know how to change a nappy, do you? I think this one's a bit… ripe."

"Bloody hell, Howard," came a voice from the stairs. "What've you got there?"

"What's it look like?" Howard snapped back at the astonished shaman.

"Don't just stand there, help me!"

Bollo put down the tray and took the baby from Howard. She didn't seem to mind her peculiar surroundings, cuddling into the gorilla's arms as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Do you know anything about babies?" Howard asked, relieved not to be holding her anymore but wary of letting her be looked after by an ape.

"Who d'you think looked after you and Vince when you drank the water from the Fountain of Youth?" Naboo asked, grinning.

"It took me ages to make a reversal spell; someone had to take care of you 'til then."

Howard's eye fell on a photo pinned to the board next to the shop counter, one he'd always wondered about. In it, Bollo held two baby boys in his arms, children he didn't know, but had always seemed familiar. That would explain why one of them had a moustache, at least.

"Bollo, we got any nappies left over from then?" The shaman asked his familiar.

"In kitchen. I sort it."

The gorilla took the gurgling little girl through, leaving the others to try and figure out what was going on.

"Where did she come from?" Naboo asked. "Have you been ordering stuff off e-bay again?"

"Why are you looking at me?" Howard protested. "Surely if anyone's got a baby they didn't know about, it's gonna be Vince!"

"Oh, come on!" his friend replied indignantly. "Just 'cos I get all the attention from girls doesn't mean I'm – you know. And anyway, if she was mine, why'd she come through the post?"

"The post?" Naboo repeated, wrinkling his nose.

"Yeah, she was in that parcel that just got delivered. Nothing to do with you, is it? It was addressed to the shop."

"Why would I be buying babies by post? I'm a shaman; surely if I wanted a kid delivered, I'd use the carpet? Who delivered it?"

"Some courier. She squashed my cardboard city!"

"That's not exactly the issue now, is it Vince?" Howard intervened.

"I think we should call the delivery company, try and find out what's going on."

"Alright," Naboo agreed. "But get it sorted, yeah? I can't have a kid hanging round here too long; it messes with the spiritual vibes. My moss collection's going mental."

The three of them looked over at the garden pot standing just inside the kitchen door, behind the table where Bollo was changing the baby. Inside the pot a tiny green fist was raised in anger and a small high voice could be heard.

"Aaaaahhhh! The pinkness! Make it stop, make it go 'way!"

"I'll get onto it," Howard agreed, picking up the pineapple shaped phone that had replaced the crocodile after the Morris dancers broke it.

There followed a swift, angry conversation, peppered with lots of 'sirs' but with no result other than the person on the other end of the line questioning Howard's parentage.

"They claim they don't know anything about a baby, they don't have any record of the delivery, and they don't know where the woman who made the delivery is," Howard announced, slamming down the phone, pink in the face from the exertion of the argument.

"Apparently she's gone on holiday or something."

"So what do we do know?" Vince asked. "I can't look after a baby! I'm a rock 'n' roll star! I've got my image to think about! What if she's sick all over my jumpsuit?"

"Bollo take care of baby," the gorilla spoke up. "But will have to get babysitter Thursday night. I got DJ set at Cream."

"We can't keep her!" Howard almost shouted, panic rising in his voice once more. "She's not ours! We don't know who her parents are; there could be police looking for her. Do you really think anyone'll believe she arrived in the post? We might as well say the stork brought her!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Naboo admonished. "The stork doesn't bring babies."

"I didn't say it did!"

"It's flamingos. Everyone knows that."

Vince was peering closely at the baby, now content in Bollo's arms.

"She's a bit, you know, squashy."

"Squashy?" Howard tried to understand his friend's choice of words; of all the things to call a baby?

"Yeah. Her face is all scrunched up. And as for that outfit… I know of a brilliant website that makes glam rock babygros. Leroy got this fantastic one for his nephew."

"Oh no," Howard cut in. "You are not dressing up the baby like you used to dress the animals in the zoo."

"Why not?

"She's a human being, Vince! Not an accessory!"

"Oh come on Howard, please! She needs something to bring her out a bit. It's not like she does anything interesting. All babies do is cry and get sick everywhere."

"And when did you become such an expert on babies, eh?

"I know stuff! I've… seen kids before. On the bus."

"As if you get the bus. I know you, Vince. If it involves sitting next to anyone with bad dress sense, you run home screaming and lock yourself in your wardrobe."

"I do not!" objected the self-proclaimed Fashion King of Shoreditch, unconvincingly.

"Oh yeah? Remember that time there was a woman in a lime green shell suit stood outside Starbucks? You ran straight into Topshop and wouldn't come out for an hour and a half. And then you insisted on carrying that Kate Moss chiffon blouse around with you for the rest of the day like a security blanket."

Howard folded his arms, enjoying his friend's discomfort.

"Shut up!" The younger man retorted, clearly not wanting to relive that particular memory.

"Like you can talk! What about when that man came in who had exactly the same record collection as you? Except he had one more than you did, one you really wanted and got outbid on? I had to throw a bucket of water over you to stop you strangling him with his tie!"

"That's – beside the point," Howard replied, flushing a shade of crimson. "What are we going to do about her?"

He pointed at the baby, currently transfixed by the shiny pendant Naboo had taken from round his neck and was dangling in front of her. Every now and then, bubbles would appear from the centre of the pendant and burst in front of the girl's startled eyes.

"Well she needs a name for a start," the shaman pointed out, tugging the pendant chain from the infant's surprisingly strong grip.

"Kirabo," suggested Bollo. "Is good name. Means 'gift'."

"I don't think she's a gift," was Howard's response. "Or at least, I don't know anyone who'd wanna send us a baby as a present, do you?"

Bollo shrugged.

"I think we should call her…"

Vince was frowning in concentration as he tried to think up the perfect name.

"Oh this should be good," Howard muttered.

"Tallulah Freema Lucybelle!" Was the triumphant response.

Howard rolled his eyes.

"I might have known you'd come up with something she won't be able to pronounce until she's eighteen."

"Raven Persia Echo?"

"No. Who names their kid that?"

"Norman, then."

"You can't call her Norman! She's a girl!"

"So?" Vince pouted.

"Look, how about Daisy?" Howard suggested, putting a stop to the flow of nonsense from Vince's head.

"Daisy?"

"Yeah. It's a nice name," Howard replied, defensively

"Alright. What made you pick that one?"

"No reason. Just… thought if I ever had kids, I'd name a girl Daisy."

"You know on my planet," Naboo added. "Daisy means "girl who lives in a tree wearing clogs, eating marshmallows all day"."

"Does it?"

"Not really."

Howard gave an exasperated sigh.

"Does anyone have any objections to calling her Daisy? At least until we find out what her real name is?"

The others shrugged.

"Okay then." He reached out to tickle the little girl under the chin.

"Daisy it is then. Hello Daisy."

The baby was promptly sick all over Howard's sleeve.

"See?" Vince was giggling triumphantly.

"Alright, alright!"

Howard wiped the baby sick off his shirt, the baby cooing angelically.

"You two better go buy some stuff for the baby," Naboo pointed out.

"If we're keeping her, that is."

"Us? Why us? I don't know anything about what kids need!" Vince seemed almost panicky at the prospect of taking on responsibility for the infant.

"She'll need some more clothes," his shaman friend pointed out, and Vince brightened visibly.

"But try and keep it practical, yeah? No ski suits or punk boots."

"How about accessories?"

"Like what? Howard interjected. "She's only a few months old! What accessories could she possibly need?"

"Everyone needs accessories! I bet you I can find some well good stuff for babies! I've never even looked at stuff for little people before!"

"Apart from that time we met all those dwarves," Howard pointed out. "You remember, they wanted you to find them all matching hats."

"Oh yeah. Apart from that."

"Don't go too crazy, will you?" Naboo told them. "She's not gonna be here forever."

"Cheers Naboo." Vince replied, grinning, as Howard carefully took Daisy out of Bollo's arms and the two headed out.

………………………………………………………………………………………

Apologies to Gary Numan, who really did name his daughters Raven, Persia and Echo, which I think are actually pretty cool names. Although I didn't think that Howard would agree.

Apparently, Kirabo is a Lugandan name and actually does mean gift.


	2. Chapter 2: A New Retail Experience

Disclaimer: I still don't own the Boosh, despite all my efforts

**Chapter 2: A New Retail Experience  
**

"So where do you get stuff for babies, then?" Vince asked, practically bouncing down the road at the thought of a whole new retail experience.

"I don't think they do baby stuff at Top Shop."

"I don't know, do I? I've never looked after a baby before either."

Howard looked suspiciously at the small girl in his arms, as if she was going to attack him with bodily fluids once more, but she just smiled, curling her chubby fingers around his shirt front.

"Mothercare, or something?"

"I'm on it."

Vince pulled his mobile out of his pocket, fitting a small attachment to the end of it.

"I got this last week. It'll find you the nearest shop to get what you want, wherever you are. Even if you're, like, in the middle of the desert."

He keyed in his request at lightning speed, the mobile lighting up instantly with a list of shops.

"And it's got a sat-nav link to where they all are. Imagine that!"

"So where do we go?"

"This way."

Vince bounced off, a sparkly Tigger in knee high boots, towards the nearest shopping centre, his excitement spilling out of him.

Howard followed warily, holding one arm protectively around the baby's head to keep the sound of the traffic deafening her.

Within minutes, Vince had assembled an enormous pile of clothing for Daisy, most of it completely unsuitable or impractical.

"Look at this!" he yelped in delight. "It's a complete Louis XVI court outfit, with shoes and everything."

"Woah there, little man," Howard stopped him. "Naboo said keep it practical, remember?"

"This is practical," Vince insisted. "What if we have to take her to a fancy dress competition? We'd look well lame if she didn't have a decent costume."

"How likely is that to happen?" Howard pointed out.

"We could get sucked back in time…"

"What, and end up in Eighteenth century France? At the Royal Court?"

"It could happen."

"How about we stick to everyday clothes for now, hey? Worry about time travelling scenarios later."

Vince pouted.

"You never let me have any fun."

"And your hair makes you look like Michael Praed in Robin of Sherwood. Just hurry it up, will you? Daisy's gonna get hungry soon or something and we should get her back to the shop."

"Can I help you?"

A shop assistant materialised at the boys' side.

"Yeah, we're, um, looking after this baby for a friend who had to… go away for a bit. What, um, what does she need?"

The assistant gave Howard an odd look, took in the overexcited Vince running around like a toddler high on E-numbers, then shrugged and turned her attention to Daisy, who appeared utterly unfazed by it all.

"Hello precious. Do the silly men not know anything at all about babies, then? Don't fret sweetie, I'll sort you."

She headed off again, returning periodically with items until a mini nursery was created by the counter. Vince came back long enough to nab Daisy for 'a fitting'; Howard dreaded to think what that meant. There was an enormous amount of baby things already. Who knew tiny versions of people were so complicated? So far all she'd needed was a nappy change, but what exactly had he agreed to take on here?

"Hey Howard," Vince called. "Check this out!"

Howard turned and saw that Vince had popped Daisy into a papoose he was wearing on his chest, one shaped like a gigantic sunflower with the petals framing the baby's tiny face.

"A Daisy in a sunflower!" Vince giggled, grinning from ear to ear.

Howard sighed. Everything was so easy for Vince, wasn't it? Even something as huge as adopting an infant was, for him, nothing more than an excuse to go shopping and have a great time.

But then again, why did he, Howard, have to take everything so seriously? Why couldn't he see this as something fun, rather than a challenge? The thought of looking after a baby was terrifying, but yet he'd always wanted children of his own one day - not counting looking after Vince, who was enough of a child at times for the both of them. And Daisy was a gorgeous little girl, why not try and make the best of it?

He began to sort through the baby things the assistant had brought – Vince might be best at making people over, but Howard knew his strength lay in more sensible avenues, such as organisation. It was part of what made their unusual friendship work; people were eternally surprised that a social butterfly fashionista like Vince would hang out with a jazz-loving freak like Howard, and just as much so that Howard would put up with Vince's shallowness and nonsense, but somehow it did work.

It took a while, but eventually Howard managed to whittle the enormous pile down to something manageable. No need for a bed, they could probably get away with using stuff they already had, and the same went for a baby bath; after all, Howard remembered his father telling him how Howard himself had been bathed in the kitchen sink as an infant.

He also managed to prevent Vince from buying dozens of impractical costumes that Daisy would never wear but allowed one to escape, mostly because Daisy looked so ridiculously cute dressed like a tiger cub. And so they left the shop, Howard weighed down by the hundreds of bags while Vince carried Daisy in the sunflower papoose, somehow avoiding doing any of the hard work as always.

"Oh my god!" came a cry from the bus shelter they were walking past. "That baby is well cute! Where d'you get her?"

A group of teenage girls came flooding out of the shelter, flocking around a startled but pleased Vince. Howard they ignored, focussing entirely on Daisy.

"She came through the post," Vince replied, clearly loving any excuse for attention.

Daisy stared back at the girls with her huge blue eyes and Howard was struck by how much they resembled Vince's. Maybe he really was her father?

It wasn't exactly outside of the realms of possibility and Howard was surprised at how upset and jealous that possibility made him feel, not just because it would create yet another divide between their lives, but because he'd started to feel closer to the little girl himself, even though he'd only known her a morning.

Squashing this thought, Howard called over the heads of the shrieking, excited teenagers clustered around his friend and– well, their adopted child, he supposed.

"Vince! Come on, we have to get back."

Daisy was clearly thinking the same thing, screwing up her tiny face as if to say she'd had enough of being stared at and prodded, and beginning to cry. Both men were astonished at how much noise such a small person could make, as were the teenagers, who quickly vanished when Daisy began screaming.

"What's going on?" Vince asked, horrified. "Do something!"

"I don't know how to make a baby stop crying!" Howard replied, flapping arms heavily laden with shopping bags. "Talk to her, or something."

"Um. Do you like David Bowie?" Vince asked the infant, whose face was turning redder and redder by the second.

"She's a baby!"

"Doesn't mean she can't have music taste!"

Howard put down some of the bags and dangled the small cuddly penguin they'd bought in front of her, but Daisy ignored it, so in desperation, he began scatting.

"Ske-bop. Do-be-do-dee-bop. Dee be-de-bup-bow."

"Oh, so she's not gonna like David Bowie, but she will be a jazz fan?" Vince protested, but Daisy did indeed respond, her screaming halted.

"Pow, pow, pa-pa-pow. Scoo-bup a doo-bup a deee. Chika chika!"

Daisy stopped crying and began to laugh, to Vince's surprise and to Howard's delight.

"Right, that settles it," Vince announced. "She's not mine. No child of mine would like jazz."

_She's not gonna be mine, is she?_ Howard thought, but didn't say, remembering the embarrassment he'd felt at his last birthday when his friend found out about Howard's 'inexperience' with women.

But he ignored that and focussed on the little girl, continuing to improvise his jazz singing until all trace of tears had gone.

Vince had a peculiar expression on his face, somewhere between disgust and amusement.

"That's enough of that. When we get back, I'm gonna get her to listen to some proper music. Give her a decent education while she's staying with us; a strong electro pop vibe all the way"

"What you gonna do, eh? Put her in the cupboard with Gary?"

"I'm not letting you fill her head with all that jazz nonsense. I bet that's what your parents did, isn't it? Your mum probably played jazz at you when you were in the womb."

"I told you about my mum. You know, how she's a time-travelling freelance scientist? I never saw her much as a kid."

"Oh yeah, you did say. That must have been pretty weird."

"It was, Vince. You never knew when or where she was gonna turn up, or where she'd come from when she did. I remember my eighth birthday party; she appeared in the garden right in the middle of a game of Blind Man's Buff."

"What's wrong with that?" Vince asked,

"She'd brought a Mini Cooper with her. She'd gotten lost in the timestream, thought it was my eighteenth and brought me the car as a present. Squashed little Jimmy Wheeler flat as a pancake. Hell of a mess to clear up."

"That must have been a bit awkward."

"Yeah. Didn't get many people coming to my parties after that."

They arrived back at the shop, Howard struggling over the threshold with his multitude of shopping.

"I thought I said keep it practical?" Naboo remarked as the three came into the kitchen, catching sight of Vince carrying Daisy in the sunflower papoose.

"Oh come on! This is practical – she's a lot heavier than she looks if you carry her without this! And it leaves my arms free, you know?"

Vince waved his arms around, knocking over the pile of bags Howard had just deposited on the kitchen table and sending them toppling to the ground. Nappies, cuddly toys and other baby-related paraphernalia spilled across the small room.

Naboo eyed the mess and sighed.

"Best not, eh? I'll be upstairs if you need me."

The diminutive shaman turned to go, but Vince grabbed his arm.

"You're not gonna leave us to look after her by ourselves, are you?"

"I've got things to do, Vince. Besides, you've got it all under control."

He nodded his head over to where Howard was arranging the new purchases on the table, in his element now he had something to organise, and left them to it.

Bollo was nowhere to be seen, but had set up a bottle for Daisy, along with a list of instructions.

"Did you ever wonder how a shaman from another planet and a gorilla know how to look after a baby?" Howard asked his friend.

"I mean, I know Naboo said they looked after us when… you know… but where did he learn it in the first place?"

"I dunno. But he is well old. Must have been around, done a few things," Vince replied vaguely, too caught up in watching Daisy trying to grab hold of her own toes to think about it any further.

"He doesn't talk about his life back home much, does he?"

"Hmm?"

"Never mind."

Howard changed his attention to Daisy.

"Let's try and figure this out, shall we, little lady?"

Howard picked up the freshly warmed bottle as Vince lifted the little girl out of the papoose, rather reluctantly. He'd gotten used to having her there, not just as a new accessory but… well, he wasn't really sure what he was feeling. Vince wasn't used to babies – too much noise and hard work. But Daisy was winning him over.

Watching Howard awkwardly try to feed her, Vince realised that perhaps he wasn't as shallow as he'd always thought.

……………………………………………………………………………………...

Additional Disclaimer: The 'Freelance Scientist' notion belongs to Metz, I suppose. If you haven't seen the ad Julian made with them in about 1998, it's on YouTube under "Judder Metz Advert".

And on reading this back, the idea of a sporadic time-travelling parent does owe a small debt to the genius that is Jasper Fforde.


	3. Chapter 3: What The Hell Is That Thing?

Thank you to everyone who sent me such lovely reviews; it was great to find them waiting for me when I got back from Reading Festival, which was ace (Robots In Disguise are even better live), and also the reason why this has taken so long and is a bit short. Hope you like!

**Chapter 3: What The Hell Is That Thing?**

It took a few days, but eventually the occupants of the Nabootique got used to having somebody new around, and Daisy became an established feature of the shop. Customers could expect to come in and find three men and a gorilla fighting over who got to hold her, feed her, play with her and what music she should be listening to, and indeed many began to come in for that very reason. Passers-by who may otherwise have not noticed the small second-hand shop found themselves drawn in by the sounds of battling DJ's, with slap-bass heavy jazz funk versus electro-punk-pop one day, drum and bass vs. Rudi & Spider the next. And on exception occasions, Fleetwood Mac would rule out and an impromptu party would spark up around the shop, with Daisy the centre of attention, seemingly just as happy no matter what was going on around her.

Even Vince didn't seem to mind the spotlight moving away from him, although whenever an attractive girl came in to coo over the baby, Vince was always to be found alongside, playing the proud parent. And when Leroy popped in with his young nephew, bearing the gift of a miniature sparkly jumpsuit and matching hat for Daisy, a small riot threatened to break out, creating a furore of accessorising for the two small children and their associated adults.

This wasn't contained within the shop, either. Vince, spying an opportunity to meet more women, signed up for a parent and baby art class in the local community centre, disappearing with the little girl for hours only for them both to return grinning, smeared in paint, and in Vince's case, with a long list of telephone numbers.

Howard, not to be outdone, overcame his natural inability to socialise and created his own group, Fathers For Jazz-tice. True, only one other person turned up and they didn't have a child, but in Howard's mind, it was a triumph rivalled by no other.

One evening, up in the living room in the flat above the shop, after Vince had spent over an hour trying to teach Daisy to recognise Rolling Stones tracks, much to Howard's irritation, Naboo stuck his head round the door.

"You've got a visitor."

The boys looked up from the drowsy little girl lying on the rug to see a figure in an ill-fitting blue shirt and trousers bound in through the door.

"Holy crap! What the hell is that thing? Is it dangerous?" bellowed the man, leaping back at the sight of Daisy.

"She's a baby, Mr Fossil," Howard replied, with long-suffering patience.

"Her name's Daisy."

"She's a what now?" Bob Fossil demanded, pressed up against the wall in an attempt to get as far away from the infant as possible.

"A baby. You know, a small version of a person? Not very old?"

"Ohhh!" Bob Fossil exclaimed, understanding dawning. "You mean that thing that happens when you do it with a lady?"

"Yes. In a manner of speaking."

"Ohhhh. That's so freaky! Why the hell is she so little?"

"Because she's only a few months old!" Howard tried to reign in his irritation

"Is there a particular reason you're here?"

"Actually there is, numbnuts," Fossil threw back. "I thought you two assholes were gonna come down to the club tonight and talk about a residency."

"Oh yeah," Vince piped up. "Forgot all about that; we've been too busy with Daisy. Do you wanna play with her?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Howard intercepted, scooping Daisy up and whisking her out of harm's way.

"Look, we're sorry we missed the meeting. Can we do it another time?"

But Fossil's attention had been caught now, and he wasn't giving up.

"Where d'you get her?" he demanded. "Is she yours, Vincey?"

"I don't think so. She came in the post."

"You can get babies through the post?"

Fossil's eyes lit up with enthusiasm.

"That's so cool! I'm gonna get one too! Maybe I'll get more than one! Are they expensive?"

"We didn't buy her," Howard corrected, not sure which was more horrifying; the idea of Bob Fossil being left in charge of a baby, or of miniature versions of Fossil roaming free in the world.

"Don't tell me she's yours, Moon!" Fossil scoffed. "As if any broad would be dumb enough to let you knock her up!"

"Alright, that's enough!" Howard shouted, suddenly more angry than he really understood. He took a breath to calm himself, not wanting to upset the little girl he held.

"Look, she's just a baby we're looking after, alright? Now, please go away!"

"Uuuuuuhhhh!" Was Fossil's reply, like a whiny kid in the playground. "I'm Howard Moon! I keep anything that might be fun to myself and never let anyone else have a go!"

"She's not a toy!" Howard snapped back. "She's a human being! And I'm not gonna let people treat her otherwise!"

"Who died and made you the King of The Giant Loser People?" Fossil shouted, but he was already losing interest in Daisy, especially as she'd fallen asleep in Howard's arms and was no longer attracting his attention.

"You're not my boss anymore," Howard pointed out, calmer now he no longer felt Fossil was a threat to Daisy.

"Vince, I'm gonna put Daisy to bed. You wanna deal with this?"

He looked pointedly towards Fossil, then left the room.

When Howard went back into the living room hours later, woken by a hungry Daisy who didn't yet understand the concept of sleeping through the night, Fossil was long gone. Vince, left without anything to entertain him, had fallen asleep stretched out on the floor like a cat. Howard sat down on the sofa and watched the younger man sleep, Daisy nestled in the crook of his arm as she demolished her bottle.

Every now and then, Vince would stir slightly, mutter something about hair straighteners or ice-skating penguins, then go back to sleep. It reminded Howard of when he and Vince used to sleep over at the zoo, wrapped up in sleeping bags on the floor of their hut and he felt an odd pang of nostalgia for those days, now long gone. Part of him missed the structure of those days; a set timetable, rotas for work that needed doing, instead of the daily struggle to get Vince to do anything useful towards the running of the shop, or to get Naboo to listen to his ideas about how best to organise the stock. And if they did end up keeping Daisy, then any pretence at order would be well out of the window. Well, look at how things had been recently. Much as Howard had enjoyed himself since Daisy had come into their lives, it wasn't the best recipe for an orderly run shop, was it? A jazz maverick, a shaman, a gorilla, an infant and King of the Mods?

But looking down at the sleeping Vince, and the now contented Daisy, Howard thought that maybe some things were more important than order and organisation. Like family.

_This is my family_, he thought, and then he too fell asleep.

……………………………………………………………………………………

Disclaimer: No, I don't own the Boosh, and I stole Bob Fossil's line about babies being what you get "when you do it with a lady" from Snuff Box. It just seemed to fit.

If you haven't seen it, type "snuff box baby rap" into YouTube. It's hilarious! As is the Rude song, but I should point out it's called that for a reason…

I also apologise for the truly awful Fathers For Jazztice/Justice pun; I just couldn't resist.


	4. Chapter 4: Mum!

Thank you to everyone who sent me all those lovely reviews! So here it is, the last part - turned out a lot longer than I thought it would! I meant it to be funnier, but it kind of went off at another angle all by itself and got a bit angsty.

Guess I just liked the opportunity to have the characters become a family.

I was going to write this in script form but I'm glad I didn't now; I think it works better when you can hear what they're thinking.

**Chapter 4: Mum!**

"TJ," the voice called, breaking through the dream Howard was having about giant thumbs with wings swarming around him, ridden by talking cats.

"Wake up, TJ."

_TJ?_ Howard thought. _No-one's called me that since –_

He opened his eyes.

"Mum!"

"Hello love."

Standing in the middle of the room, dressed in a costume even more peculiar than something Vince would come up with after a night on absinthe and pixie dust, (or to put it another way, what people in the 1970's expected fashion of the future to look like), was Howard's mother, Mrs Moon, the time-travelling freelance scientist herself.

Startled, Howard tried to get up, remembered Daisy on his lap and struggled to pull himself into a sitting position without waking her.

"What are you doing here?"

"A mother can't cross the space/time continuum to see her son every now and then? Sorry I missed your birthday, by the way. What was it, your thirtieth?"

"Something like that," Howard replied, too confused to think straight.

"Wha?-" came a blurry voice at his feet; Vince had woken up.

"What's going on? Where am I? What's happened to my hair?"

Vince's hair was indeed a sight to see – all the product that had accumulated over the day had settled on one side of his head, creating a wave effect in his shoulder length, bottle black hair, while leaving the other side perfectly normal.

"Hello Vince dear," Mrs Moon said, maternal affection radiating in her voice.

"The troubles of parenthood catching up with you already? I remember when TJ here was little – I hardly ever had time to finish my make up. More than once I went out with only half my face done. Course, that's probably fashionable now, isn't it?"

"Sorry, have we met?"

"Oh! I thought we had… what year is it?"

"2008," Howard supplied, his brain still not having really caught up with what was going on.

"Really? Maybe not then. Hello Vince. I'm Ida Moon, Howard's mother."

"How do you know me if I don't know you?" Vince wrinkled his forehead, perplexed.

"Didn't TJ tell you? I'm a time traveller. Sometimes things get a bit… knotted. Time wise. You know."

"TJ? Who's-" Vince eyes lit up in understanding. "Oh my god!"

"Yeah, alright," Howard cut in. "That's just… a family thing from when I was a kid. I didn't like being called Howard then."

"What's it stand for?"

"Tommy Jerry. But let's stick to Howard for now, okay?"

Vince shrugged, getting up and going over to one of the room's numerous mirrors to fix his hair.

"And how's my little angel doing?"

Mama Moon bent down and stroked the hair of the still snoozing baby on Howard's lap.

"How's my Daisy-belle, eh?"

"Hold on, her name really is Daisy? And how did you know that?"

Mrs Moon looked down at her son in surprise.

"Don't you know? She's your daughter!"

Both men were flabbergasted.

"What? But how-? And who-?" Howard managed.

"You didn't get my note?"

Mother Moon sat down on the sofa next to Howard.

"What note?"

"The one that came with Daisy? In the parcel. It should have explained everything. Well, everything I can tell you without upsetting the timestream."

"There was no note. Just a baby in a box. Look, what do you mean, she's mine? How can she be? Who's her mother?"

"Ah, now that I can't tell you, sweetheart. That would upset things. Not to mention spoil things for you in the future."

Howard's mother smiled, a smile full of secrets and intrigue.

"But Daisy is your daughter. Or she will be. In the future. I brought her back here so you could keep her safe."

"Safe from what?"

"I can't tell you that either, I'm afraid. All I can say is that at some point in the future, you call me and say you need me to take Daisy for a little while; keep her somewhere safe until you call me back. And this is probably the safest place for her, isn't it? With her family."

"Yeah, but, this is before she's been born!" Howard protested. "Isn't that gonna mess things up? You know, continuity and all that?"

"Oh, pooh," Mama Moon replied dismissively. "Continuity isn't all that important, Not in the long run. As long as I don't do or say anything that upsets the natural order of things, everything will be fine. You'll understand one day."

"Will I? Cos I don't now! None of the stuff you used to tell me as a kid ever made any sense."

"But you will. When you fulfil your potential."

Mother Moon gazed at her son with affection.

"I'd forgotten what you used to look like. Before."

She cupped one half of his face with her hand.

"Such handsome eyes."

"Give over!" Vince objected. "Those piglet eyes? I've seen bigger eyes on a potato!"

"Don't be rude," Howard's mother reprimanded. "Small eyes are the sign of a powerful mind, in my family. And so useful for focussing within the fabric of space/time."

"What are you talking about, Ma?"

"I shouldn't really say. But…"

Mrs Moon reached into a concealed pocket of her outfit and drew out a photo, handing it to her son. Howard looked at it, and saw what appeared to be himself, but not, holding Daisy in his arms. This man was older, not hugely but several years at least, but what was most striking was the change in him. Gone was the shifty expression, the unkempt hair and terrible shirts, replaced by a confidence Howard had never thought he could posses. Also impossible to ignore was the eyepatch that this Howard wore over his left eye.

"No way!" Vince exclaimed. "The eyepatch is coming back in! I knew it would someday!"

Mother and son exchanged a glance, then Mrs Moon took the photo back.

"I can't tell you any more, I'm afraid dear. And I have to take Daisy back with me, too."

Howard paled visibly, clutching onto his newly-discovered daughter – well, sort of. She would be his daughter, so what difference did it make?

"Aw no!" Vince cried, pouting. "You can't take her away! We love having her here!"

"But she's not meant to be here," Mama Moon pointed out, gently. "This was only meant to be a temporary solution, and I have to take her back to her proper time. Short trips are all very well, but if she stays here too long, things will become… complicated."

"But-"

"No buts, Vince," Mother Moon spoke firmly. "You'll see her again. In the proper time, when it's meant to be."

"When?" Howard asked, still holding onto Daisy as if he never meant to let go.

"I can't tell you. But it will happen. You are Daisy's father, and this will be her home again, her family. Come on, son."

She stood up, holding her arms out.

"It'll be alright."

Reluctantly, Howard got to his feet, and handed his still sleeping future daughter to his mother.

"I might squeeze in a quick visit with your father up before I go back," Mama Moon said, tucking Daisy under the wing of her outfit.

"Be good to see Leeds again. Give my love to Naboo and Bollo, won't you? Oh, wait, they won't know me either… give them Daisy's love, then. Until they meet again."

"Bye, Daisy." Vince was pouting, like a child denied his favourite toy as he waved her goodbye.

Howard stroked Daisy's ruffled dark hair.

"Bye-bye, little lady. I'll be looking forward to seeing you again."

"See you soon, son," his mother said. "And you, Vince. Stay away from the Harlequin look, won't you? It really doesn't suit you."

And with that, she vanished, leaving the flat feeling suddenly a lot emptier.

"Aw, I can't believe it!" Vince moaned. "No more Daisy! That's well harsh."

"Ah, come on, little man."

Howard tried to be positive.

"You heard what my mum said. We'll see her again."

"Yeah, but she also said you have handsome eyes, so, I don't know, I'm not sure she's really all there, your mum."

"How dare you? This is no time for a 'your mum' joke, Vince!"

"Sorry. But it is quite funny. And that outfit she was wearing was amazing! Wonder where I can get one?"

"I don't imagine you could just buy one in a shop. Not for a while, anyhow."

Howard had a sneaking suspicion that in the future Vince had probably influenced his mother's choice of clothing somehow, if not actually made the outfit for her. He certainly didn't remember her dressing like that when he was a child.

"Come on. Let's go open up the shop."

They went downstairs, Howard unlocking the front door as Vince headed into the kitchen to put the tea on.

"Hey Howard, look!" Vince pointed at the garden pot beside the door, which was now accompanied by a row of smaller pots, also filled with greenery, but with a hint of pink mixed into it.

"The moss had babies too!"

He caught sight of his friend's face.

"Sorry. You don't mind too much, do you? Not having Daisy around any more?"

Howard sighed.

"I'll get used to it. What about you?"

Vince shrugged.

"I'm gonna miss the art group. Although-"

His face lit up as he remembered.

"I was gonna show you this later, when the others were here, but-"

Vince opened a cupboard and took out a large flat rectangular package, pulling off the wrapping to reveal the newly finished painting inside.

It depicted the shop, and stood within it were Howard, Vince, Naboo and Bollo. And pride of place, right in the centre, sitting happily in Howard's arms, resplendent in her sparkly babygro, was Daisy.

Vince grinned widely as he held it up.

"How cool is that?"

"Yeah, it's… great. It's a really good painting, Vince. I think you captured it all… just right."

Howard tried not to let the lump rise up in his throat, remembering his mother's words:

"- _this will be her home again, her family_."

That explained why Daisy had been so comfortable in her surroundings right away; she was used to having a shaman and an ape as babysitters.

"Oh, come on Howard," Vince tried to cheer his friend up.

"It's not all bad. You'll see her again! And, think about it, this definitely means you're gonna meet someone! Someone who's gonna stay with you, have a kid with you. That's gotta be good news, yeah?"

"Yeah. I suppose so."

Howard busied himself with making the tea.

The bell above the door tinkled, signalling the arrival of the first customer of the day.

"Hello? Are you guys open?"

Both men went through into the shop front to greet the owner of the voice, a dark haired woman they recognised from having visited the shop before.

"Oh, hi. I saw the sign…"

The woman smiled, and both Howard and Vince couldn't fail to notice how beautiful she was.

"I was in yesterday and I just came by to see if that gorgeous little baby was here today?"

"Sorry, she's… gone back to her mum and dad," Howard replied. Well, that pretty much was the truth, wasn't it?

"Oh, that's a shame. I'd never noticed this shop before, but my friend told me about the little girl and I kind of found myself coming back a few times!"

The woman came up to the counter, offering Howard her hand to shake.

"I'm Miranda, by the way. Miranda Kamaria."

"Howard Moon," he replied, startled to see that, up close, her eyes were very blue.

"Moon? Great surname! Hey, if we got married, I'd be Miranda Moon! Wouldn't that be amazing?"

"I'm Vince Noir," Vince interjected, but Miranda all but ignored him, focusing on Howard.

"Yeah, we met. You wouldn't stop talking about how Gary Numan lives in your cupboard."

"He does! Look!"

Vince swung open the door to Gary's cupboard, but it was empty. A note was pinned to the inside of the door.

Cheers for letting me stay, but I think I should probably go back to my family.

Thanks for everything!

Kisses

Gary

"Oh. Right."

Usually Vince would have made more effort with a pretty girl, but even he could see this one only had eyes for Howard, something he never thought he'd ever see.

Picking up his painting, Vince left Howard and Miranda to it and ambled upstairs, wondering where would be the best place to hang it.

Naboo and Bollo were still out, DJ-ing at an all-nighter, so he had the place to himself, and in the end he decided to go for the most noticeable place in the flat, right above the TV.

With any luck, he wouldn't have to wait too long before the picture became right again, and everyone would be back here in the flat together.  
A family.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own the Boosh, although Mother and Daisy Moon, and all references to penguins are mine.

Vince's line about having seen bigger eyes on a potato I stole from some guy called Simon I saw do stand up at Cardiff Student's Union a few years ago. I hope he won't mind.

What Howard's initials stand for I read on Wikipedia; I can't remember if it's ever mentioned in the show?

And if you haven't seen it already, the Judder Metz ad on YouTube will reveal a version of the future freelance scientist Howard in all his glory. Although he'll be younger, rather than older, but continuity isn't all that important. Not in the long run.


End file.
